Roads
by Fiones
Summary: Now all she had left of them was an album of old photographs and the hope that they would, someday, come back.


Title: Roads

**Title:** Roads  
**Author:** Alice  
**Fandom(s):** Fullmetal Alchemist (animeverse)  
**Spoilers:** Spoilers for Conqueror of Shamballa.  
**Pairings/Characters:** Winry Rockbell, Ed+Al+Winry friendship  
**Summary:** Now all she had left of them was an album of old photographs and the hope that they would, someday, come back.  
**Part:** 1/1  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Disclaimer:** Fullmetal Alchemist is owned by Hiromu Arakawa, studio BONES, and uh SquareEnix. I think. Either way, Alice does not own it and that's probably a very, very good thing.  
**Author's Notes: **After a period of writer's block, I can write again! Whoot! \O/ This is my first attempt at a Fullmetal fic, so uh hopefully it doesn't suck horribly. The song "Roads" by Portishead was an inspiration for this fic.

**Roads  
**  
She hadn't known about their plans to leave until the morning after they had already gone. The sight that greeted her when she woke was one that she'd somewhat expected, though perhaps not to this extreme. She knew they wouldn't stay, and that pained her, but to see the remains of their house, it somehow hit a deeper cord inside her. When they'd gone away to train with Izumi Curtis, Winry could still walk past their house and remember the times they'd played together, and think of Trisha Elric and her kindness, her loving smile. Now all she had left of them was an album of old photographs and the hope that they would, someday, come back.

And they did, eventually, for a few days. She'd smiled at them, fixed them up, and gave Edward a stern lecture about his mistreatment of her automail, and it was just like old times, in almost too many ways. They stayed less than a week and then they were on the road again. Winry waved goodbye to them from the balcony and she noticed, through a haze of semi-consciousness in her half-awake state, that Ed really _had _grown, if only a little, both in height and in stature as he slowly transformed from a boy into a man. She hadn't truly noticed before.

That was the only thing that ever changed. The image of them standing side by side as they walked away, backs facing her, was the clearest in her mind.

That always seemed so strange to her, even when they were very little, how when they'd play together the two brothers would always find it funny to run away from her and have her chase after them. Even when they weren't playing (they could have just been walking down the street together,) they'd suddenly dart off, laughing and chortling as young boys do, and leave her standing there, staring after them. She was never a very fast runner; she knew she'd never catch up to them. She'd walk home and wait for them to return and sooner or later they'd show up, shifty eyed and apologetic. She'd scold them, and they'd know they were forgiven. She always did forgive them, somehow. She loved them too much not too.

She'd wait for them forever, but she wasn't about to stand at the door, staring off down the road for a sign of them coming home. She carried on with her life while they were away and did her best not to think of them too often. Whenever she did she would slip into a melancholy state, reminiscing on the happier days before their mother died but it always, inevitably lead to a memory of them walking away from her, every single time. She did often wonder if they ever thought of her while on their travels and wondered if they ever regretted leaving her. She was, she _always_ was, the one to get left behind. Bit she'd quickly push those thoughts far from her mind; thinking on them would just make her more upset and worried than she really needed to be. And it wasn't like she _needed _them there. She wasn't dependant on them, didn't need them by her side to keep on living.

But that didn't stop her from _wanting _them there.

So she'd smile happily at them when they finally did make their way back to her. She wouldn't tell them of how much she'd really missed them, and how sad she was when they were gone; she figured they probably already knew and her confirming their beliefs, when they were already beaten and broken (because they always did seem to come back to her in the worst of states,) would only hurt them more and make it harder for them to leave. And they would leave, they had to leave. They still had a goal to reach and it was a dangerous one but they needed to achieve it. What else could she do but give them a little encourage and tell them to take care of themselves?

They remained on their journey with the knowledge that they had someone to return to, and she stayed behind knowing they needed her to be there for them when they did return.

And it was hard, not knowing where they were or whether they were safe, but nothing was worse than knowing that _no one _knew. And for two years that's how it was, Winry and everyone else waiting just to know if Edward was even alive. She still had Alphonse, of course, but that made it all feel so much more wrong, more frightening. It was always _Ed and Al_. And he didn't know, didn't remember, what Edward must have sacrificed to return Al to his body, and Winry could never put into words how that made her feel. How could he not remember all they'd been through?

And suddenly Edward appeared before her again, only for awhile. A very short while. And just as suddenly as he'd come, he'd gone, this time taking Alphonse with him. The last thing Winry ever saw of him was, once again, the sight of his back fading into the distance as he ran away from her, alone. From a distance she saw the strange flying machine turn and head back to wherever it came from and she _knew_ that Edward was on board and that he was leaving for good and that Al would go with him and they would be together and be gone and they never even said goodbye to her. It was absolute, final. They weren't coming back this time.

She didn't cry, though tears did gather in the corners of her eyes. She held them back. She had too. What was she crying for this time? They were together, even if she was left behind again. It amazed her sometimes how, no matter how many times they abandoned her, no matter how used to it she was by now, it still hurt.

When she returned home, she took some of the old pictures of the boys out of the photo album and put them in frames or pinned them to the wall before noticing that Den had a bit of a limp. Some screws in his automail leg were loose. She quickly got to work and carried on with her life. They would, she hoped and reasoned. She couldn't… no, she wouldn't sit around moping and waiting for them to come back when she knew without a doubt that they wouldn't. She had a good life, a great job, and a small but loving family, and she wasn't going to give up on all that just because the Elric brothers had gone away again. She had to keep moving forward in spite of the pain, because there was no point in ever denying that the pain was there.

Because she still didn't need them. But she'd always, _always_ want them.

**FIN  
**

Ughhhhhhh, that was bad. Well, not terrible, but certainly not my best. Still, I'm rather proud of it since it's my first attempt at anything FMA and I actually _finished _it, which is saying a lot since I haven't been able to write so much as a sentence for the last month or so. D8 It's short, but still. It's something.

Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, particularly concerning characterization. Characterization is a big thing with me. Flames, however, will be laughed at and openly mocked. If you must flame, at least do it well so I can get a good laugh. Thank you 8D


End file.
